


Towards the other soul

by MissingMissFisher (bokchoynomad)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, MFMMwhumptober, Quiltingmom safe, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-06 10:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16386383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokchoynomad/pseuds/MissingMissFisher
Summary: “One must learn to love, and go through a good deal of suffering to get to it... and the journey is always towards the other soul.”― D.H. LawrencePart of the MFMM Whumptober challenge using the prompt: “No, stop!” Set during 'Murder & Mozzarella.'





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After reading all the phabulous (and some extremely heart-wrenching) stories coming in for the MFMM Whumptober challenge, I just had to sign up as well (time to let RL suffer for a bit)! 
> 
> Also, as you know I could never put our fave duo through anything too excruciating, you can consider this story ‘Quiltingmom Safe’.
> 
> Finally, huge hugs to @comeaftermejackrobinson for her wonderful editing/reviewing.

He closed his eyes in a rare moment of indulgence, tilting his face towards the welcoming warm rays of the midday, wintery sun. Breathing in deeply, his stomach protested loudly as his other senses all sharpened and gravitated towards the tantalizing aroma wafting over from the nearby pie cart. His mouth then began to water when suddenly, the marked staccato sound of determined heels punctuated through the shuffling of the kerbside queue where they stopped momentarily directly where he stood. 

“Hello, Jack!”

Barely managing to maintain a hold on the grin threatening to split his face, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson marshalled himself against the singular and personified force of nature who never failed to pull him and everyone else into her orbit. 

“Good day, Miss Fisher,” he responded, blinking his eyes open to reveal the Honourable Phryne Fisher standing before him. As other parts of him immediately basked in the cloud of her French fragrance, his stomach again warred loudly against any threat of not being fulfilled. “You’re just in time to make your pie selection. That is, if you would care to join me.” 

“Actually, I was hoping to entice you with something a little more appetizing, Inspector,” she rejoined suggestively. He opened his mouth with a ready quip, but quickly closed it when he noticed the familiar basket she was toting. “Especially now that I’ve discovered your penchant for Italian cuisine.”

Not rising to the bait, he simply held out his hand to accept the basket whilst holding out his elbow towards her. She smiled knowingly at his inevitably acquiescence, tucking both her hands around his arm before nodding at his slight head tilt in the direction of the station. The two detectives walked along in amicable silence in spite of the added marked tension that had loomed between them. Jack knew most of it had been brought on as a result of their current case involving feuding families and the notorious Camorra. He also knew his partner well enough to wager her main intent on showing up with an arsenal of her butler’s legendary cooking today was simply grease for her own private interrogation with he himself being a main suspect.

The echoes of an approaching motorcar’s engine instantly snapped Jack out of his thoughts.

“Sounds like someone else has adapted your driving style, Miss Fisher.”

He smirked at her mock pout, but the motorcar’s sudden appearance cut off any retort as they both stopped in their tracks at the deafening roar engulfing the atmosphere around them.

“No, stop!” Jack yelled in terror as it quickly became evident that the vehicle was aiming straight for them. 

Adrenaline surged as he turned towards Phryne and heaved her out of the way just as she reached for the metal lid of nearby rubbish bin. The squeal of tires was met with the screech of a metallic ring as the bin’s lid made contact with one of the car’s front tyres. The driver began to lose control and the vehicle swerved dangerously to the other side of the street before righting itself leaving a flurry of fluttering debris and groans from their intended victims in its wake.

“Phryne, are you hurt?!” Jack ignored the wave of dizziness assailing him as he pulled himself off of his partner from where they had landed amongst the rubbish heap. “Phryne?” Panic engulfed him when he realized his hands were covered in blood. 

Her blood.

“God, Phryne, answer me!” He paused to take stock of her condition, willing his emotions back as his eyes assessed what he could see of her prone body that still lay face down. “Phryne!” He knew better than to attempt to shift her until he knew the extent of her injuries.

“Jack?” Relief infused him at the sound of her muffled moan as she attempted to lift her head. 

“No, stop, Phryne,” he commanded, reaching out to cup her face as she turned her head towards him. “You’re injured. Don’t move in case you hurt yourself further.”

“Jack, you’re bleeding!” Her eyes widened in horror as she struggled to sit up.

“No, I’m fine,” he shook his head, ignoring the slight blur to his vision, as he reached out to cup her cheek. “It’s you who’s bleeding, but I can’t figure out where. I think it must be somewhere on your front side.”

“Your head is bleeding, Jack,” she insisted, stubbornly beginning to role to her side, wincing as she managed to pull herself upright.

“My god, Phryne,” Jack again remonstrated, quickly peeling off his overcoat, as his eyes examined her. “It’s your arm!” He realized then that she had landed on top of the lunch basket when he had tried to push her out of the way of the approaching motorcar. As a result, her arm had taken the brunt of their fall that had been crushed against shards of broken crockery. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what? For saving my life?” she exclaimed indignantly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jack Robinson! Now, let me take a look at your head.”

“No, I just bumped it, nothing to worry about compared to you.” He leaned over to wrap his coat gingerly around her shoulders protectively when she began to shiver. “Can you stand? We need to get you to hospital.”

“Nonsense, Jack, I’ll be fine!” She gritted her teeth before picking out a few visible shards of what remained of what were once some of her favourite plates. “And yes, I believe so, let’s just go back to the station.” She then poked through the rest of their ruined lunch, fishing out one of Mr Butler’s pristine, white napkins.

“May I?” Jack asked before grimly taking the cloth at her nod, and began tying it around what seemed to be the worst of the lacerations on her arm. “Are you cut anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so,” she reported after running a hand gingerly over herself. “I’ll have to undress to find out for certain.”

“Can you lean on me?” Jack asked as he wove his arms gently, yet securely about her waist to support her. Just as they both managed to get back on their feet, a series of shouting began around them. A few constables had by now run out into the street, dealing with bystanders that were dotting the street.

“Inspector!” Hugh Collins separated himself from a group of onlookers to rush towards them when he recognized his superior and Dottie’s miss. “Miss Fisher, are you all right? I didn’t realize you were caught up in all this!”

“Someone attempted to run us over, Hugh,” Phryne informed him straightforwardly as Jack described the motorcar’s make and asked Collins to write down the registration number. “Can you please telephone for an ambulance?”

“There’s no need for that, Jack,” Phryne insisted as they entered through the station’s front door. “Please ring for Dr Mac, Hugh, and have her meet me at my home as soon as she can.” Constable Collins fairly flew around the front desk to do her bidding.

“But, you’re in no condition to drive, Miss Fisher,” the inspector couldn’t help cutting in, his worry for his partner bypassing his normal courteous manners, as he gently lowered her into the chair facing his desk.

“And neither are you, Jack,” Phryne admonished in return. She couldn’t hold back a wince as she paused to lift her good arm to push back an escaped curl from off his forehead in order to get a closer look at the cut above his eye. “You must come home with me as well so Mac can get a good look at you too.”

“I’ve had much worst, Miss Fisher,” he stubbornly stated, “and nothing that I can’t clean up right here. I think I recognized one of those perpetrators who drove at us and need to make some calls. Only after I know you are well and safely back home, of course.”

“Erm, excuse me, Inspector? Miss?” Hugh poked his head hesitantly around the corner of the doorframe. “Sorry for interrupting, but, erm, telephone call for you. For Miss Fisher, I mean. It’s Dottie. I hope you don’t mind, but I had telephoned her first, and then she rang off to call Dr MacMillian, but has just telephoned again so she can speak to….”

“No, stop, Collins, it’s all right, we get the picture,” Jack assured the younger man with a raised hand before picking up his desk’s telephone extension and passing it to Miss Fisher. “And, please bring in the medical supply kit as well, Constable.” 

“Maybe I should ask Mac to come straight here instead,” Phryne hissed under her breath before changing her tone to address her companion. “Hello, Dot, yes, I’m fine, don’t you worry at all! No, they’re only scratches….”

Rolling his eyes, the inspector shook his head at her attempts to downplay her injuries when a sharp twinge in his palms made him look down at his now clenched hands, still caked with her blood.


	2. Chapter 2

“She’s an ‘old friend.’ I believe that’s a term I’ve heard used.”

Phryne could barely make out his face in the gloomy, weakening sunlight still attempting to seep into her parlour. She shifted slightly, her shoulder pressing even further against his from where they were closely perched on her favourite chaise.

“When you say 'old friend', do you mean 'old friend' like Dr Mac, or 'old friend' like Captain Compton?” She tossed her head slightly, trying not to make it too obvious that she was trying to gauge his expression and extremely invested in his response.

“I fail to see why you feel the need for such a distinction, Miss Fisher.” The fading light seemed to want to join in his deflection by further masking his usually inscrutable features.

“But, Jack,” she began to argue when the sounds of approaching footsteps stole their attention. “Ah, Mr Butler, not a minute too soon!” She hoped she could distract and detain Jack with whatever magical morsels her faithful retainer had conjured.

Instead, an indistinguishable figure materialized before them, lifting a slender arm in a beckoning gesture. “Gianni, come,” the faceless shadow whisper invited, chilling Phryne to the core.

“No, stop, Jack!” She reached out to clasp his arm, as uncharacteristic fear began to grip her, but her fingers only grasped empty space.

“Excuse me, Miss Fisher, but I need to leave you now.” His deep tones reverberated from somewhere nearby the now swirling darkness.

“Wait, Jack!” She cried out, jumping to her feet, and frantically beginning to search for him. “Where did you go?”

She burst into motion upon catching a brief glimpse of his familiar silhouette that lit up in the momentary flash of lights. Dread now gripped her throat as the coldness continued to press in upon her from every direction. Then, the unmistakable sounds of a motorcar engine reverberated the air around her.

“Jack, no!” Her shout went unheeded as a sleek, black motorcar careened around some unknown corner, driving straight in his direction. Suddenly, the vehicle slowed as phantom-like limbs reached out and consumed Jack before speeding off again.

“ _Jaaaack!_ ”

The echo of a distinct knock began to match the pounding inside her chest as Phryne jolted awake. Drenched in a cold sweat, the lady detective immediately took stock of her surroundings. Relief saturated her entire being upon realizing she had just escaped a harrowing dream.

“Miss, are you all right?” Phryne heard the worry tingeing her loyal assistant’s voice as the younger woman appeared in the doorway of the darkened parlour. “You fell asleep after Dr MacMillan recommended I stir that powder into your tea before she left. Do you need anything at all?”

“Yes, Dot,” the lady of the house blinked against the rapidly illuminated room as her companion switched on the lights. “Could you please ask Mr Butler to go prepare the Hispano? Unless Bert or Cec are still about?”

“Are you sure you should be going out so soon, Miss?” Dot asked suspiciously. “Is there anything you need that I can manage for you instead?”

“I’m afraid not, Dot,” Phryne rose to her feet unsteadily, wincing at all the stitched and swabbed cuts along her arm and side ensuring that she was most definitely present in the here and now. “I really need to get back to the station immediately. That reminds me, isn’t Hugh due soon to take you to the pictures?”

“Not yet, Miss,” Dot replied. “But, he did telephone to say he would be slightly delayed as he and the inspector had to go interview someone. Would you like me to try ringing the station? I’m sure there’s no need to rush all the way there when...”

“No, thank you, Dot,” she interrupted. “Please, I just need to get to the station immediately!” Her instincts were spurred on by the lingering terror from her dream. The panic she had felt atill twisted Phryne’s insides, urging her to find Jack as soon as possible.

“Yes, of course, Miss,” Dot reluctantly agreed, knowing better than to argue when her miss became this determined. “Just let me go speak to Mr Butler and fetch you another hat since your other one was misplaced earlier.”

“Just hurry, please, Dot,” Phryne requested again in an oddly detached, yet still determined tone. With a nod, the maid quickly disappeared with her employer’s sense of urgency nipping at her heels.

*-*-*

Ignoring the stinging sensation against her side as she pushed the door open, Phryne slid out of the Hispano with as much grace as she could muster before Mr Butler could properly set the brakes.

“Thank you, Mr B! No need to wait as I’m certain I can get a lift back later with the inspector.”

“Of course, Miss Fisher,” he replied, knowing better than to comment on the obvious pain his employer was attempting to hide. The well-trained man was most certainly concerned at the increasing pallour of Miss Fisher’s worried visage, but he calmed himself with the knowledge that she was on her way to visit Inspector Robinson. Of everyone his miss usually surrounded herself with, Mr Butler knew that the steady inspector, alongside Dr MacMillan, had been granted that rarest of privileges of being able to voice opinions that Miss Fisher occasionally heeded. If anyone could attempt to keep his miss from doing herself any further harm, Mr Butler was confident the inspector could be the most successful at it. “Do telephone in case your plans change.”

“What would I do without you?” She exclaimed gratefully. Without waiting for the older man to drive off, Phryne hurried through the familiar door with some semblance of her usual aplomb, only halting briefly to greet Hugh and admonish him to not keep Dot waiting any longer than necessary.

“No, stop, Miss Fisher!” Hugh responded, throwing down the folder he had been trying to file in order to intercept her. “The inspector asked to not be disturbed. We’ve been tracking down the suspects who tried to run you down earlier.”

“Excellent, work, Hugh. Have you succeeded?”

“Erm, well, nearly, I think, Miss. The inspector reckons they might be linked with the Camorra and another murder case he was working on last year involving one of the current feuding families. You’ll have to ask him….” Collins trailed off with a slight shrug when he realized she had swept through the little gate with a tiny wave.

Phryne slowed only long enough to establish that Jack was alone before turning the door handle and sashaying inside.

“Hello, Jack!” She called out, fully prepared to defend herself against his inevitable fussing over her being out and about in spite of her injuries. “So, I hear you’ve been busy following some promising leads on our case.”

It wasn’t so much the lack of a response, but the reason behind his silence that stopped the lady detective in her tracks. Phryne smiled indulgently at the novel sight of him with his head resting on an outstretched arm, paperwork scattered everywhere across his normally meticulous desk. Leaning over to pluck at one of the sheafs of the case file, she rounded the desk in order to slip onto her usual corner. Her heart filled as she gazed at him fondly, thankful that he was actually getting some sleep. She really ought to wake him soon, knowing he wouldn’t want to be found this way by any of his men.

But before she did, she also couldn’t resist this unexpected gift of just being able to study him in such a rare, unguarded moment. Perhaps she could chalk it up to the increased tension of unanswered questions that had been stifling the two of them since they had discovered their latest murder victim. It wasn’t just the case, Phryne admitted to herself, but the shock of discovering that Jack might actually have someone else in his life who might have captured his affections. Or at least, someone who certainly shared such visible intimacy with her normally, stoic partner in crime-solving. The fact that the lady detective had no indication of this other woman’s existence was much more jarring to her equilibrium than nearly being mowed down by a motorcar. Such knowledge, or lack thereof, was already unleashing unwanted emotions that she usually preferred to avoid at all cost.

She shuddered slightly as the memory of the petrifying images and emotions from her dream again froze her blood. Here, in the familiar and comforting haven of Jack’s office, Phryne could at least acknowledge as she gazed on her inspector’s still and peaceful facade that she should no longer ignore the reality of their connection to one another. Even if her stubborn mind rebelled at what that meant exactly, her heart was undoubtedly winning the tug-of-war by manifesting the necessity of identifying, and confirming Jack’s place in her life.

At this truthful thought, it felt oddly liberating to surrender to the rush of tender feelings she had always harboured when it came to him. She could allow herself this protective indulgence, her heart tried to reason, especially considering their awful near-death escape from earlier. Reaching out a hand, she gently began to run her fingers through his hair, relishing the feel of the soft curls that had been released from their normally tamed position. The sensations brought back to mind the covert memories from not so long ago when she had done the same after Jack had been rendered unconscious by her father’s ridiculous nerve tonic.

Her smile quickly evaporated at the sight of the darkened bruise that had materialized where she vividly recalled he had been bleeding earlier. At least he had taken the time to clean the area so the cut could heal.

“Stubborn man,” she murmured, relishing in the contact as she lightly traced the edge of his strong jawline, usually sternly set as a result of something she had said or done. “I should have asked Mac to stop by to check on you all the same.”

It was only when her fingertips hovered over his lips that the gnawing panic that had been hounding her from the moment she awoke earlier roared back in full force.

Something was wrong.

She bolted to her feet, sliding her hand below his jaw to feel for his pulse whilst her other hand clamped across his forehead. She cursed herself for not noticing how cool his skin was much sooner. It was too cool. Flooded by long-buried, wartime memories forged under fire, Phryne could barely bite back her fear as she cupped his face in her hands.

“Jack, wake up! You have to wake up now!”

Unable to keep the terror at bay any longer, Phryne never even felt the pain or blood seeping out from the ripped stitches of her own cuts as she tried to shake him awake. She never even realized she was screaming until Hugh came bursting into the room.

“No, stop! Let go of me, Hugh!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Fisher, but you need to let him go.”

“Like hell I will!”

She continued to fight as strong hands tried to pull her away from Jack’s prone form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your lovely kudos and comments! It's been waaaay too long, I know, and all the excitement about my reappearance has had me completely stoked.
> 
> So put down the pitchforks as a result of this cliffhanger, I did say this was Quiltingmom safe, so _trust_ me! 
> 
> Next chapter is nearly finished and will be posted hopefully in the next day or so!


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t the stinging sunlight or throbbing pain, but the overpowering onslaught of disinfectant that managed to reach him through his subconscious haziness. The scent could still trigger distinct memories from the trenches. Back then, being injured meant a temporary respite (for him, at least) from the fighting. On the other hand, ending up in one of the ambulances or field hospitals could also mean infection, which was a silent enemy that had conquered many a fellow combatant’s limbs...or life. Although he had managed to escape its clutches, Jack was still always wary of the smell that could invoke ghosts best left overseas.

Now, he gingerly ran a hand over his face, his fingers coming into contact with fresh gauze just over his right eye, as he blinked himself into alertness. The wound protested as he shuffled back through his thoughts to work out when, and perhaps, more importantly, how he came to end up in what he deduced to be a hospital room. One of the last things he could recall was writing down some leads after he and Hugh had gone out to conduct several more interviews. Unsurprisingly, all the information they had gathered didn’t amount to much except for more blame being cast at the opposing feuding family. All the same, he instinctively knew that someone very high up in the Italian mob was responsible for ordering the near hit on him and Miss Fisher with the motor vehicle.

A sudden movement from the corner of his eye snapped his attention towards the gap in the curtain that had been pulled around his bed to provide a modicum of privacy. He furrowed his brow at the silky material since he didn’t recall ever being in a hospital bed that came with such a fancy addition before.

“H-hello?” he managed to rasp out through his extremely dry throat. He waited until a hand reached to whisk the material aside to reveal a matronly nurse who reminded him uncannily of his favourite school teacher. “Could you please inform me how I came to be here?”

“Ah, good morning, Inspector Robinson,” she greeted him with a warm smile. “How are you feeling today? You took a rather nasty bump to that head of yours, that’s what. Knocked you right out, it did.” She marched over to his bedside to place a cool hand to his forehead before popping a thermometer into his mouth.

“Erm, where and when exactly did that occur?” He managed to ask awkwardly as she continued to press the device against his tongue.

“Excellent, your temperature’s right as rain, Inspector,” the nurse declared as she turned to the bedside table to pour him a glass of water. “As to where you were discovered, you must thank your constable for that, as he was the one who got you here. Him and your missus!”

Jack choked on his drink at this new information, instantly worried that Rosie had somehow gotten mixed up in everything. After 16 years together, it wasn’t uncommon for him to become inadvertently linked to his former wife although he had taken care to have her removed from all his official records, and especially as his next-of-kin. She deserved to be rid of all the tasking burdens associated with sharing a life with an officer of the law, especially when it could involve terrifying telephone calls of him being injured on the job. His thoughts were rudely dispelled by the nurse who began to smack him soundly on the back until he could breathe again.

“There, there, Inspector, you’ve been out stone cold since they brought you in yesterday. Slept like the dead all through the night, you did. Gave us all an awful fright, you know. So just take it slowly - that’s it.” She paused until he was able to nod and attempt another smaller sip after clearing this throat. “Yes, it was a good thing your wife came along too, what with her bleeding all over the place!”

He froze again, obviously horrified when everything instantly slid into place, and he registered the fact that the matron was referring to Phryne. And, somehow, his charming freight train of a partner had managed to injure herself again. Badly, from the sounds of things. Sighing inwardly, Jack had to credit the nurse’s tact for not plying him with more questions as she watched him warily like a mother hen. She had probably worked out that his state of unconsciousness was due to his profession given how she had addressed him by his formal title. That and the fact he had been brought in by one of his contables, most likely Collins. But, it was obvious she was curious as to why Miss Fisher had arrived in her condition as most police officers didn’t normally get admitted to hospital alongside their injured spouse, or presumed spouse, in tow.

“Ah, how is my...my…” Jack paused, feigning another cough as his brow creased in bafflement. How was he to describe who Phryne was and her distinctive place in his life when he could barely explain it to himself? It was simpler to continue to go along with the nurse’s assumption, no matter how much in error. At the same time, it was all he could do to tamp down the alarm burning its way up his empty stomach as he worried about Miss Fisher’s condition and whereabouts.

“There now, I’m sure she’s absolutely fine,” the nurse said, patting his hand reassuringly, before turning to retrieve a plate of toast that she passed to him. “She wouldn’t leave your side, you know, even though she was so poorly herself, the lamb. Oh, don’t fret, the doctor managed to patch her up nicely.”

“Is she still here then?” Jack enquired hopefully as relief flooded his entire being at the nurse’s prognosis. Phryne was safe, and she was fine. She had been attended to by an expert medical professional. Suddenly finding his appetite returned at full force with the welcomed news, the inspector chomped his way through the additional piece of toast the nurse had added to his plate with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“Truth be told, I actually haven’t seen her since I returned for my morning shift, Inspector,” she told him, again patting his hand at the concern written so clearly across his face. “But, I’m sure your constable must have taken her home, and that she’s resting like the doctor recommended. Perhaps, you could telephone after you’ve had your breakfast?”

“Yes, of course,” Jack mumbled after he had gulped down the final bite. “Thank you for all of your help, Sister.” The kindly woman whisked away laden with his empty crockery after pointing out the telephone nestled on his other bedside cabinet. He again wondered what hospital Hugh had brought him to when he realized his room came equipped with its very own telephone.

He waited patiently as the operator connected him to Wardlow’s exchange and listened to the tone. Glancing at the clock hanging on one of the walls, Jack estimated that it wasn’t too early even for Miss Fisher’s customary habits.. He hoped that she was resting and allowing her body to heal up from everything she had sustained from yesterday. Jack still felt guilty for being the cause of her pain, even though, his quick actions had prevented them from a much worse fate.

As he continued to wait for someone to pick up the connection, the inspector sifted back through the details he had catalogued about Miss Fisher’s behaviour yesterday. It had been obvious to him that she had intentions to finagle what she could from him about his association with the Stranos. And about his association to Concetta in particular. Although he felt he had nothing to hide, he never imagined having to explain his connection to the Italian widow to the lady detective. Most of all, there was nothing to explain as Concetta had been the wife of a murder victim from another case, and he had still been married when they had first met. He simply enjoyed the kind woman’s company, and her family’s excellent cooking. Nothing more and nothing less, especially as he had rarely dined there of late, even after his divorce had been finalized.

Now, Jack could only laugh at himself for thinking he’d survived the worst nightmare of relationship issues with the official end of his marriage. As much as he still felt the failure of his previous hopes and dreams with Rosie keenly, it really couldn’t compare with the uncharted maze of whatever it was he shared, or didn’t share, with the Honourable Phryne Fisher. Yes, she brought an undeniable joy to the lives of all those around him, especially for him, but the fact that her presence had become irreplaceable in his own still carried the sharpness of a double-edged sword.

With a grimace that had nothing to do with his head, Jack had to steele himself against reliving the horror that had paralysed him when he realized that motorcar was driving straight at them. And then, the sight, scent, and feel of her blood that seemed to be everywhere when she was so still on the ground beneath him. It tore through his heart even now as he recalled it vividly. He really should have just taken her home himself, and ensured she stayed put in bed after being stitched up carefully by Dr MacMillan. But apparently, it might have been a good thing he hadn’t as he couldn’t recall when he had actually passed out from the concussion he had sustained.

“Phryne, where are you?” He sighed out loud, his heart clenching with worry when he accepted the fact that no one was home to answer his call.

He was about to disconnect the call and try Collins at City South, when he heard a rustling sound from the far corner of his room, hidden from sight by the curtain. His instincts immediately leaped into top gear as he searched for a weapon. Was it one of the Camorra come to take advantage of his utterly vulnerable state? He would simply need to call their bluff until he could alert someone of the uninvited presence in his room.

“Come out where I can see you!” he commanded in his most authoritative tone that was usually reserved for such occasions. “Or I’ll…”

“Or you’ll what, Inspector?” The curtain suddenly whooshed against the wall. “Knock me out with a bedpan, perhaps?”

“Miss Fisher!” He instantly lost all speaking faculties at the touch of her soft finger against his lips. He raised a suspicious eyebrow at the slightly guilty expression that flashed across her sleepy face before vanishing as soon as it appeared.

“Now, Jack darling, you’ll ruin everything if you insist on addressing your _wife_ so formally,” she began to explain whilst she began shifting herself gingerly onto the edge of his bed. “You have no idea what I’ve had to sacrifice in order to prove my devotion to you since we arrived.”

“Let me guess.” He tried not to wince as she lifted her good arm to assess his head carefully. “I don’t suppose I’m now enjoying the newly-minted ‘Fisher Suite’ of this hospital, by any chance?”

“What did I say about blowing my cover, Inspector?” She teased him as her fingers began to do marvellous things to his scalp. “And just so you know, you are enjoying that rarest of honours of being a patient in your own personalized suite.”

“What?” He gasped in shock before recovering himself. “I, erm, I…thank you, Phryne.” The simple words seemed too trite to describe the crest of emotion swamping him as he was again confronted by the depth of her generous spirit that far superseded the monetary. He instinctively knew somehow that she had no doubt been the one to discover him unconscious, and could only imagine how she must have hounded everyone and everything in her path to see him safely here.

“Let’s just say I’m most relieved my donation didn’t have to be made in memoriam,” she scolded him soundly. “Besides, I believe we’re even now, Inspector!”

“I hadn’t realized we were keeping score,” he responded with the hint of a smirk that he didn’t know she had desperately been missing.

She smiled cheekily at him, shuffling closer until she was suddenly nestled against his chest. He ran a hand gently up and down her arm, grateful to see that her bandages weren’t stained with any fresh blood. It was only then that he also realized she was wearing what felt, and looked, to be a very expensive nightgown. No doubt, it was something Miss Williams had delivered at some point when it became clear his partner wasn’t leaving. Far be it for the glamourous Miss Fisher to be forced to endure a mere hospital-issued gown.

“Don’t look so scandalized, Jack,” she admonished him, her voice muffled against the crook of his neck, reminding him relatively quickly about other parts of his anatomy that were regaining life. “I was the epitome of propriety, and only nodded off on that luxurious armchair when Mac came in to look you over about an hour ago. I won’t soon forgive you for giving us all such a scare!”

“Hmm, I know the feeling,” he conceded before shifting slightly to study her carefully. “Now, how about yourself? Which instructions of the good doctor have you already managed to derail?”

She pouted at him before he caught that mischievous glint in her eyes that always promised him a headache, although he was already ahead on that score. “They’re only multiple lacerations that her second round of stitches have secured. I promised not to do anything that might overly strain myself, but she didn’t believe me and insisted on keeping me overnight for observation.” She didn’t have to voice the reality that no one had been able to drag her away until she knew he would be all right.

“No, stop, Miss Fisher,” he chuckled as her fingers slipped beneath the edges of his unfamiliar pyjama top, again no doubt supplied by this remarkable woman’s benevolence, to tickle his chest hairs. “Or you’re liable to undo Dr MacMillan’s handiwork, and the consequences are definitely not something I am eager to discover any time soon.”

“Well, then you’ll just be giving me a reason to brush up on my extremely rusty medical skills, Inspector,” she demurred, glancing up at the bandage on his head. “I can always attempt to nurse you back to life again before she returns. That is, if you’re content to make do with me.”

“Looks like we’ll have to make do with each other.” He couldn’t resist bringing his hands to cup her upturned face as the air began to hum between them. The short distance rapidly evaporating until their faces were a mere inch apart.

“Well, at least until we’re able to make...something else with one another?” She grinned suggestively, wrapping her good arm around his neck to pull him even closer.

“Such as making some uninterrupted lunch or dinner plans for a change?”

“Oh, do shush and just kiss me, Inspector, or I’ll have to resort to more drastic measures.”

“Insufferable…” His teasing retort abruptly ceased when his lips became victim to her threatened onslaught. The rest of him instantly began to throb from something entirely more pressing than pain, demanding that he stop resisting and simply surrender. He willingly went unto the breach, losing all aspect of time or consciousness of anything or anyone else other than the extraordinary woman in his arms.

Until he found himself pausing infinitesimally at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Don’t you dare stop, Jack Robinson!”

Shedding the last of his inhibitions, most likely to join his now discarded pyjama top, the inspector complied, becoming completely oblivious again to everything including the sound of the curtain being pulled securely around the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I can now be forgiven for putting Phrack through the rack, so to speak! 
> 
> I was really trying to do the quote I had chosen and my first Whumptober Challenge justice. Huge thanks again to Whopooh, Firesign and everyone for organizing it!
> 
> Thanks so much again for reading and leaving your thoughts, which mean so much.


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